Let's Pretend

To begin, let’s pretend that I’m a superhero with amazing powers and an even more amazing super-suit.  The suit is skin tight (but stretchy, of course, for ease of movement), black and shiny, with a subtly studded belt and a motorcycle jacket.  My fans admire its “sleek punk” vibe.  It definitely does not feature a cape.  No capes. 

I’m currently pursuing a gang of ruthless bad guys.  Let’s call them The Raccoons, because they are, in fact, raccoons.  They are cold-blooded criminals, prowling through neighborhoods in the darkest hours, over-turning the trash cans of innocent citizens and viciously scattering the rancid contents across previously peaceful driveways, yards, decks and patios.  This time they messed with the wrong house – my house, which is not really a house at all, but rather a sophisticated superhero lair.       

I’m stalking them, tracking their every scampering move, staking them out, pausing only for daycare drop-offs, latte stops and maybe a yoga class.  I will find them, and when I do, they will quiver in their little raccoon masks.  They will see my thigh high, stiletto boots standing above them and they will know the gig is up.  They’ll freeze, mid-chew, expired hotdogs and rotten apple cores poking from their mouths, and hold their tiny clawed hands in the air.  My dangerously stylish super-suit and steely glare will be enough to send them scurrying, but only after apologizing profusely and promising never to return.  How does a raccoon apologize, you ask?  I have no idea, but we’re pretending, remember?  Work with me here.

Yes, I just finished cleaning my backyard, in the pouring rain, after a particularly brutal raccoon attack.  In reality, this was an activity not well-suited for the wearing of high heels, silk blouses or even sleek-punk super-suits, but I am very good at pretending and always have been.  As an only child, I did not have opportunities to plot Lego revenge raids or kidnapped-doll rescues.  My friends had siblings who occasionally came in handy for these purposes, but more often than not, I had to pretend. 

Sometimes I seamlessly slip into pretending without letting people around me know.  Occasionally there are enough clues or perhaps the people are very good pretenders themselves and they catch on.  Other times, it seems to confuse people.  (“What?  She’s really a superhero?  I had no idea?  Is that why she’s never around when the raccoons show up?”)  Speaking of confusing people by pretending, I was observing my son’s swimming lesson a couple of weeks ago and the instructor was teaching the kids how to alternately put their faces in the water to blow bubbles and then turn their faces to the side to take a breath.  I thought he was being quite clever, telling them to put their mouths in the water to “talk to the fish” and to then put their ears in the water to “listen to the fish.”  One little girl seemed particularly perplexed.  She peered into the water and asked, “Are there fish in there?”  “Oh yes, they’re swimming around under the water,” the instructor said.  “I don’t see any fish,” she replied.  “They’re down there, really deep,” the instructor persisted, “that’s why we can’t see them from up here.”  She gave him the skeptical, world-weary look of a person ten times her age and asked, “Are we pretending?”  I’m learning that it’s a good idea to offer formal notice upon entering pretend world. 

So, even though the contributions are not yet rolling in to fund my pretend run for the presidency, I’m going to discuss the first issue that I, as pretend president, would like to tackle.  Legions of loyal followers (still pretending), we have some serious problems with our education system.  I’m not even talking about teachers, unions, curriculum or funding, although I realize there are issues around all of those and that each piece of the system comes to play in the discussion of any other piece.  For now, I just want to highlight the overall structure and the fact that it is an abysmal fit for modern families and society.   This is something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately, as I’m preparing to send my son to kindergarten in the fall. 

I started the process of researching, touring and applying in the fall and am still at it.  Yes, I’m talking about kindergarten.  I’ve already spent more time and effort on my son’s kindergarten decision than I spent on my own college selection process.  I swear I’m not one of those moms scheming to get her child into “the best” kindergarten.  I just want to make the right decision for my son.  He loves school right now and I don’t want that to change.  I love the idea of public school, but there are some concerns; namely enormous classes.   I simply cannot comprehend (not even in a pretend world) how ONE teacher can effectively teach a group of 28 five year olds.  There also seems to be an unnecessary emphasis on test scores, test scores, test scores.  I’m worried about how those two factors are going to work out for a very energetic, talkative little boy.

We’ve looked at public schools, private schools and parochial schools.  They each have unique cultures, benefits and drawbacks, but share the same structure that schools in our country have had for generations – something in the neighborhood of a 9 a.m. to 3 p.m. school day and summers off.  This strikes me as antiquated, anachronistic even.  I doubt very many contemporary families still need extra help during the summer to harvest crops.  And for what modern, dual-job family is 9 a.m. to 3 p.m. a “full day?”  So, in addition to selecting a school, I need to figure out child care for before school, after school and summers.     

The private schools we’re looking at have guaranteed before and after school care, which is one of the reasons they are appealing.  This comes with an extra price tag, of course, and I quickly figured out that tuition numbers are misleading.  Sometimes tuition includes before school care, but not after school care.  Sometimes it doesn’t include either.  Some schools have reasonable tuition, but outlandish before and after care prices.  I needed to compare apples to apples, so I made a spreadsheet.  As expected, public school is the most affordable option, but here’s the kicker – it will cost more than $9,000 per year to send my child to public school.  (That’s above and beyond my tax dollar contribution, which I am in no way bemoaning.)  Yep, between the state of Washington’s “Pay for K” full-day kindergarten program, before and after care (since “full day” isn’t even close to a full day) and a standard summer program, it’s going to cost nearly ten grand!

And there’s more bad news.  Enrollment in the before and after school program associated with our public school is based on a lottery system.  I have to wake up in the wee hours, trudge to my neighborhood community center, draw a number and hope my child gets a spot.  If he doesn’t, we will be forced to go with a private school option, because, like many modern families, we don’t live near extended family.  No grandma’s house as a backup for us.  Here’s the extra-special complication:  Private school tuition deposits to secure a spot are due in late March, assuming Chester gets into one of them.  The public school before/after care lottery doesn’t happen until May.  That means I need to add an additional $1,000 or so onto the cost of public school, just as insurance.

This isn’t working for me, and I’m guessing it isn’t working for a lot of other people either.  I would love to see our schools structured to address the schedules and challenges of the times in which they’re operating.  We should have year-round school, with strategically placed breaks for holidays and to allow for family vacations.  Schools should have built-in full day programs for all families who need them, with the definition of “full day” being based on a standard 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. workday and some commuting time.  I know the budget implications are staggering.  I know there will be union negotiation nightmares.  I admit I don’t have all those details worked out yet, but I’m going to pretend that I will figure it all out as I go along.  (See how great the pretending works?!)  I know I’m suggesting a profound societal change, but I think it’s time. 

So, wish me luck.  With a flash of black leather, I’m off – leaping tall buildings in one stiletto-step, making sweeping education reform and battling raccoon riff raff.